


A Battle Ax and a Dagger Sheath

by ClutchPaper



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, I haven't even watched the entire show, I think I love it though, Written in an evening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 03:59:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14300286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClutchPaper/pseuds/ClutchPaper
Summary: The feeling was still there, but as it grew, Grog realized suddenly that it was not illness. It was almost the opposite, and it was based on how the candlelight hit the simple tunic Pike was wearing, how her hair floated in the humid air after pulling free from a braid, and her noticing him looking at her. A smile on her face, as she raised her flagon to him in greeting and he could see her mouth ‘Hey!’ as if he hadn’t been right across the room all night.“Pike.” Grog grunted, confused as just looking at her made him feel warm again, but in a different way.Vax’s hands pulled away, and the elf slammed back into his chair and scooted in close again. His expression flipped from concerned to cunning glee. “Pike?”“Yeah.” There was a bout of laughter from the table the rest of Vox Machina were seated at, and Grog pointed as casually as he could manage in his state. “Pike.”----A different scene, with some similar elements thrown in, because there’s so little I could do to rival the real scenario. But here’s a short run-around in 'if the Love Potion had met its intended target: Grog'.





	A Battle Ax and a Dagger Sheath

**Author's Note:**

> Probably some spelling errors and stuff.
> 
> I have listened to only a smattering of Campaign 1, as there is just SO much of it. But, I am working my way through. So, forgive me for factual errors, etc. Just go with ‘definitely AU’ if it helps you get through the night!
> 
> My own setting, at a random time in the adventure.

There were plenty of women in the room. No lack of them, really. A busy enough night in the tavern. The drinks had been supplied in bounty, and the mood was raucous. 

Although the team could have been in poor temperament, they’d taken to revelling with townsfolk and one another. Desperate for a light-hearted evening. People slipped or slammed past tables, danced in a cleared area in the center floor, laughed and shouted to one another. Nearly perfect night, by all rights.

Vax was at Grog’s table, with the rest of the team off nearer to the music. The elf had been talking about something, but Grog had stopped listening about ten minutes ago, knowing that there were words being thrown around that he didn’t comprehend. Whatever the topic was, he was pretty sure that was boring too. 

He _had_ been ignoring Vax to the best of his ability, until the elf managed to knock over the drinks.

No big deal. Plenty of alcohol had been split on this floor, and it only took a few minutes before Vax had obtained another round. Grog figured it was fair that they were on Vax’s coin.

The Twin was back to talking. Grog’s attention went back to scanning the room. A fight would not be too bad right about now. But, there was such a jovial atmosphere, he didn’t see anyone that looked like they deserved a knock to the head.

When Grog finished the dredges of his drink, and raised his hand to obtain more from the harried looking workers darting around. Across the room, he saw a tiny pale hand raise her own flagon at the same time, held high to wait for it to be refilled.

He knew this gnome as closely as kin. But the light on her hair, the half-drunken smile on her face, her laughter joining that of her own table, he’d never really looked at her like he looked at women. Not like a woman.

A creeping sweat shivered down his back.

Pretty enough, sure. For a little lady. He was fond of her, sure enough, they’d basically grown up together. She was his best mate, and the most beautiful gnome in the entire world. Dead or alive. She surpassed them…

Grog grunted in surprise to this thought. It was true, though.

He had a long-standing weak spot for the tiny species, but he’d never wanted… and not with _Pike_. It should feel weird. But it didn’t at the moment. He liked gnomes as a whole. He liked Pike as a best friend. He liked a lot of things… but he’d never been attracted like this. Not to gnomes or Pike. It was a revelation. “I like gnomes.”

Vax snorted his drink, and sputtered. A delighted smile creeping across his face. “What was that you said?”

With a few blinks, Grog shook his head, and looked over at his table-mate. “Huh?”

“You said something. It’s a bit loud here, could you… repeat that?” There was grin that he was trying to hide behind his hand, which was resting between his nose and chin. “What was that?”

Grog shifted in his seat, trying to understand where this flush of warmth was coming from. “Is it… it hot?” There was no draft, and it had always been muggy in here, with the clashing of bodies, and the heat that was as pungent as the smell. But he felt like it was coming from within, and was radiating outward. “Vax?”

“Yes.” Moving almost as if he was a cat watching a bird escape a cage, Grog’s friend was absolutely fixated. 

“Think I’ve been poisoned.” Grog was having trouble keeping that flushed sensation down to a level that felt normal. “I’m gonna vomit all over.”

Vax startled back, and scooted away. “ _Oh_. Well, that’s not--” He stood, his chair clattering back a bit as Grog sat stone-y in his own chair, worried that if he moved, he’d launch a partially digested haunch of lamb and a great portion of ale into the crowd. 

Putting a hand to his stomach, he felt it slick with sweat. “Yeah.” 

“Should… I get you a bucket… or should we step outside? You’re probably _not_ poisoned. Just something you ate… or drank.” Oddly clammy hands landed on Grog’s shoulders, and the half-elf seemed to be genuinely concerned. Probably not for Grog, as an upset stomach was nothing but a minor inconvenience, but those enjoying the night, they weren’t deserving of the onslaught.

The feeling was still there, but as it grew, Grog realized suddenly, it was not illness. It was almost the opposite, and it was based on how the candlelight hit the simple tunic Pike was wearing, how her hair floated in the humid air after pulling free from a braid, and her noticing him looking at her. A smile on her face, as she raised her flagon to him in greeting and he could see her mouth ‘Hey!’ as if he hadn’t been right there all night.

“Pike.” Grog growled, confused as just looking at her made him feel warm again, but in a different way.

Vax’s hands pulled away, and the elf slammed back into his chair and scooted in close again. His expression flipped from concerned to cunning glee. “ _Pike?_ ”

“Yeah.” There was a bout of laughter, and Grog pointed as casually as he could manage in his state. “Pike.”

“Shall I get her?” Vax was up from his chair again, seeming to be feeling strangely intent and helpful as this evening progressed. Should that be a concern, or…? No, probably not.

“Naw. Look at her. Havin’ a good time.” Grog’s tankard was filled by burly woman with thick black hair, human, busty, and just below middle age. Nice enough looking. There were plenty of ladies around, and more for a price, if he wanted to head down a few doors to another building. 

Vax rolled the chair to balance on it’s back legs, and crossed his arms over his chest, still staring with dagger-sharp gaze at the side of Grog’s head. Even if not blessed in the brains, Grog wasn’t dumb enough to miss that he was the base of the elf’s attentive focus.

“You do look a little off, and it takes a _lot_ to take the wind out of you.” 

“Yeah.” Grog nodded, trying to look at the other women in the room, to put this into more comprehensible terms. If his body was looking to have a night of passion, there were plenty of options. Plenty of them. Small ones, some halflings, if that was the itch for whatever reason. But none of them compared, not the brunette in the deep cut red dress, the blonde with a crown of flowers on her head, the shaved-headed one with a war hammer resting against the leg of her chair. None of them.

“I’ll have Pike _check you out_.” Vax spun his chair on it’s back legs and leapt to his feet.

“No, tha--” But there he was, already over at the table with the rest of Vox Machina, and gesturing to Pike, then glancing over at Grog. There was that strange grin on his face, and he settled immediately into the chair Pike had left.

Moving with care, so as not to spill her drink, Pike moved through the center of those dancing, dodging as best as her inebriated form could to get to his side. With a huff of air to blow a tendril of hair from her face, she placed her smaller flagon beside his, and patted his arm.

“Vax is right, you do look hot and sweaty. You okay?” 

Attention locked on Vax’s wild grin, and the seat where Pike had been only moments ago, Grog muttered out a completely unconvincing dismissal. “Yeah, ‘s good.” 

Pike rounded the table, and climbed up next to him in the chair that Vax had pulled close when this all began. “You sure, big guy? You like kind of… _vomit-y_.”

“Yep.” Grog pulled his full tankard towards him, and finally managed to turn his gaze down on her.

Her face was grimy, a thick streak of dirt across her forehead and locked into the creases in her neck and around her mouth and nose. “Okay, well… if Vax was worried, you must have been acting _off_ … so… let me know. I can do a healing--”

“Nope.” He took a long drink, and drained nearly all of it before pounding it back onto the table with more force than he had wanted to use. 

Pike jumped a little, sloshing her own beverage down her tunic, and she cursed and wiped it ineffectually off with her hand. “Great!” She shouted, indicating the now damp cloth that clung to her. “This is going to need to be burned, ale, blood, mud, I don’t know how I’m gonna get it clean, ya know?”

“Uh-huh.” Looking at her shirt had been a mistake. The pale blue fabric clung to her, and his eyes took in everything that the wet fabric revealed, which wasn’t nearly enough to make him feel so entranced.

The music changed, it got louder, and there was cheering and chanting to a song. 

Everything went from a mild warmth to an absolute inferno as she crawled to kneel on the chair and lean towards him. It was too loud, she had to nearly press to the side of his face if she wanted to be heard. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” He words slurred a bit as her breath hit his ear, and her hand held his shoulder to steady herself. 

Whatever it was that had put this fire in him, it was clear now, it was her, and only her, and absolutely her, and never could have been anyone _other_ then her. 

He turned his head, and he felt something more like fear than he would have liked as he stared at her perfect tiny face, and he saw her immediately sober a bit as she recognized the expression.

“Outside?” She shouted at him, putting her drink solidly on the wood table, and holding his shoulder in what normally would have been a reassuring gesture. 

Grog wasn’t sure if getting up from the table was a great idea. He’d been keeping lower portion slunk beneath it for a reason, and as soon as he stood… well, Pike was just about hip height to him. There was no hiding that what the pounding blood in his body was doing right at her eye level. 

But sitting in here was doing _no favors_ to the problem either. Close proximity, attention from her, it wasn’t ideal to solving the problem. He spotted Vax get to his feet, in syncronis with Pike, and begin weaving through people towards them. “Yeah.”

Quickly, she was leading the way, and he got to his feet, feeling strangely self-conscious. It was not something he often felt. But, Pike thinking the best of him, seeing him at his best, was important at the moment. And although she’d seen more of him then even women he’d been with _intimately_ , an overwhelming crashing wave of confusion and desperation for her to… approve of him… made him feel sick-ly heated again.

While Pike had to dodge around people, people moved _around_ Grog, without his needing to miss a step. 

The cold night air blasted from the open door, as Pike held it open. “C’mon big guy” She motioned for him, and he strode past her. Hoping he was quick enough, and it was dark enough that she couldn’t see

He was not usually modest. On any level, really. But he felt like she would have prefered not to be knowledgeable about his urges and drives with women. Not that she voiced disapproval often, Pike tended to let people live their lives as they wanted. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of what he’d done, but it all of it seem so non-essential when he looked at her.

It was chilly, at least, Pike would think so, he supposed. She was awfully small. Perfectly small for Pike.

The roar of sound was dimmed now, through the rough boards of the ‘Talent and Tales’ Tavern. Grog wasn’t even sure what town they were in, although thinking straight seemed even more difficult than usual. 

Pike’s hand slapped at his arm. “Any better? Usually that’s your go-to-world, but you look… sick. Are you sure you’re _not_ sick, Grog?”

“Nope. Not sick.” There was a thick layer of discomfort to his voice that he wished he was better at masking. He was just not a natural liar. Not like some of the more talented members of their group. They walked for a little while, there weren’t many people out, and the streets were a decent cobbled stone. 

A soft stomping sound thumped through the quietness now on the street, and he knew Pike had just stood her ground, digging in her heels. “You’re acting weird, and if you don’t tell me, then I know you’re in trouble.”

The moonlight came out for a moment from between some thin cloud cover, and her face was even more beautiful by it’s pure soft light. Her hair seemed to hold the color, and if he’d been better at words, like Scanlan, he’d have written up something really lovely about it. Because she was worth every word.

But he wasn’t so good at words. 

“It’s… uh… not so...polite and stuff, is all.” He turned to look down at her, and she had clearly been checking him over visually before they locked their gaze. She was rolling her eyes, an embarrassed grin/grimace on her face. 

“Did you take some sort of… drug?”

“Uh.. no. Not that I remember.”

“ _Okay._ So...I’m going to cast a heal. I’mma bit… tipsy, but we’ll see what we get.” Pike reached out for him, and he awkwardly crouched, as she was clearly expecting to be able to lay hands. 

Her tiny fingers splayed across his bare chest, and he took in a sharp breath, and she did the same. 

Those thin pink lips were working on words, and on instinct, Grog leaned forward, ready to kiss her.

But, they were both not at their most dexterous. 

His leaning towards her threw her off balance, and she toppled backwards. “ _Crap_!” She landed with a rough sounding ‘slam!’ on the ground, and she rolled on the street for a second, holding her hip. “Ow!”

“Sorry!” Grog reached down her her, and she patted his hands away. 

“Nothing serious. Just… hurts.” With a groan, she sat up, and continued massaging her hip. “Don’t do magic drunk, I guess.”

Grog leaned backwards, into a seated position across from her, feet nearly touching, in the middle of the abandoned street. “Love you, Pike.”

Bright smile, and a quiet laugh, mixed with a hiss of pain as she rolled to her uninjured hip. “Love you too, Grog. Sorry about not getting that spell, wanna try agai--”

“No, I _love_ ya, Pike.” Grog felt strangely big, which was ridiculous, because he was a perfectly good size. Hell, a great size. He shouldn’t feel out of place next to her. He hadn’t before. They’d always been the perfect sizes, tiny and huge... “Scanlan.” The gnome was his almost-best friend, and he would have been the perfect size for Pike. They were made to fit together. They were both small pieces that could make a whole, a dagger and it’s sheath. Instead of trying to work a battle ax into a dagger sheath. Didn’t fit.

“Uh… is this a message from _Scanlan_? Because he’s made his feelings clear, trust me. I just about _drown_ in all the feelings from Scanlan.” Seemingly having eased her pain, Pike leaned back, arms behind her, steadying as she looked at him.

Grog scowled, and wished again for better words. “No, that’s-- it’s not a message from anyone. Well, it’s a message from me. Can I do a message from myself?”

“Sure.” Tilting her head, she gave one of those understanding and fond smiles. “What’s the message?”

The moonlight faded again, and the street seemed eerily quiet, as if the light had stolen all the sound away as well. It made the breeze feel even more painful against his very hot skin. “Not fancy on words.”

“That’s fine.” Pike said, with a yawn with she patted away with a hand. “I prefer to listen to you talk, over pretty much anybody else, you know.”

“Yeah. I _know_.” Grog was getting almost… twitchy. She was so close. Just an arms-length away, and his hands could entwine in that hair. Touch her. How was she not feeling this? How was she so relaxed? Wasn’t she boiling inside too? “I’ve got _feelings_.”

Pike sensed the weight of intent behind the words, as she tended to do, even when his thoughts weren’t as eloquent as they could have been. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Not a lot of big phrases were being thrown around tonight, which suited him fine. But this feeling seemed to need those bigger conversations, and he hoped he was capable of something worth telling her. “You. Your feelings. And mine. About Grog. And about Pike. About Grog and Pike.”

The gnome sat up to her best height. In the darkness, he could see only her outline, in the faint light of the tavern, peeking warm torchlight through windows into the streets. “Oh.”

“I don’t want ya to take it wrong. You’re not usually what I like. You’re all sorta small and soft and sister-y. Kinda _sister-y_ , right?”

“I--I mean I thought so?” He couldn’t see her expression, but her tone sounded strained. 

That heat was not fading so much as fleeing. She didn’t seem to be feeling that pit of need at her core, like he was. “So, like, I was _thinkin’_. Maybe ‘cause we’re buddies and all, and we’ve been for so long… maybe instead of being that… we could… be somethin’ else. I get I’m not-- I mean we don’t fit or nothin’. You’re real tiny, and I’m real big. Which never was a problem--” He took a long breath, and wondered when the last time he said this much in such a hurry was. What was she thinking? What was her expression? Fate was playing a cruel trick to take away the moonlight at this moment. “-- _you’re_ not a problem, though. You’re a good Pike-size. But maybe we’d not be a dagger and sheath or nothin’, but we could be somethin’ else--”

“Grog? Hey. _Can you hold on a second_ , I’m not sure what... the daggers and stuff--?” Her voice was tense, and he knew the sound. It was like when she was trying to tell Scanlan to shut up. But, it was not as annoyed, it sounded… sadder. He could see her outline in the light shift, as she pulled her legs into a criss-cross. “Are you saying you’re in love? In love with _me_ in a not so ‘hey have an ale and arm wrestle’ kind of way?”

As if hearing her say it gave him permission to have that entire sensation that had made him sweat like a nervous teenager came flaring up again, and he swallowed hard. “I know you’ve got-- and Scanlan’s got-- and I’m not…”

“Okay, hold up, big guy. You keep bringing up Scanlan. We both love him, okay? But... I don’t feel like that about him, and I don’t know if I ever will. So… if we have this conversation, Scanlan conversation comes afterwards.” 

Grog let out a long breath of the cold air. “...I wanna sleep with ya _tonight_.”

The silhouette moved again, leaning back a bit. “Grog, whatever is happening with you, I can confidently tell you the answer to that is NO.” There was no anxiety or anger in her voice at the proposition, but she had what some of the others whispered about as a ‘mom tone’. She used it on him from time to time, which made it even worse as he felt another jolt of affection. He loved all the ways she spoke to him. Never down to him. Never made him feel stupid.

“I _really_ want to.” Grog again, felt his body was too big, and it was getting to be a weirdly horrible experience, to wish he could crush down into something more compact and more… gnome sized. 

“God, Grog. Don’t-- it’s...want me to go get Scan--?” She paused suddenly, as if realizing that she’d broken her own rule about not talking about him yet. “--someone? Someone else will happily go to find somewhere you can… work this out of your… uh...”

Grog leaned forward, and Pike actually leaned back. They paused for a long moment, and the sounds of music bounced blearily down the road like the drunken patrons inside the tavern. “I’m asking, Pike. I’m asking ‘cause you matter more’n _anybody_. I mean, this town? Burn it. The people in that tavern? Kill ‘em. Vox Machina?--”

“What are--? Stop. No. No, no, that’s enough.” Pike leapt to her feet, stumbling a little as she gained her balance, and seemed to shake from the cold. “This--it’s not funny.”

Grog got to his knees, and then to his feet, towering over her. “I’m… not… sure what I’m sayin’ here. I just know I’m-- I _need_ you, Pike. I need to--” Again, instinct, or desire, whatever it was that was making him feel like she was devouring his sense of self, like she was pulling every ounce of sanity he had, everything about her was just devastating him, and it was worse than any wound, any death, anything he’d ever experienced. “I _need ya_ , Pike.”

“I’m going to get-- somebody else. You’re sick or… this isn’t right.” Pike began backing away, slowly, her hands up, not in fear of him, but as if he was barely hanging onto life. Comfortingly. “Just try to be cool for me, _okay_?”

“I’m tryin’, Pike. I’m tryin’, but somethin’s--” Grog was desperate for her to come to him, to pull her into his arms. It wouldn’t matter if they didn’t match up, to have her there, her little form pressed against him, it would work somehow.

“--Somethin’s _wrong_ , Grog. I’m going to get everyone else and we’ll try to figure--” Pike was already putting distance between them, and he tensed, trying to resist the urge to avoid running towards her. 

“Pike. Before we get ‘em, before we start tossin’ magic around, and figurin’ this out an’ all....” Grog stayed perfectly still, using every ounce of strength into letting her get further away. “We ought’a kiss.”

The moon came back through, and standing like a goddess, caked with blood, mud, and half-dried ale, the tiny gnome practically glowed amidst the darkened houses. She was the most amazing thing… and he’d never had realized this whole time. 

“How long have you felt like this?”

“Forever, feels like.”

“That’s not true. _Think_ , Grog. Did someone… was there someone with a charm spell… or…?”

“Uh… after drinks? Yeah. You ordered a drink.” Grog admitted, trying to trace back where he first experienced the rushing desire to be close to her. “Yeah.”

“Okay, well… that doesn’t actually answer anything.” Pike started back towards the tavern, and Grog made out a figure in the shadows near the doorway, the figure slid out of sight as Pike goit closer. But the mysterious person didn’t matter. What _did_ matter was Pike was leaving, and he was going to be left out here. Alone and frustrated.

Grog’s resolve broke, and he took a few steps towards her, which covered all the progress she had made. He was over her again, before she had a chance to react, and he placed his hand over her the crown of her head, keeping her from making any further progress towards the entrance. “I’m serious. Listen to my serious voice, and polite-li-ness.”

“You’re _not_ serious, you’re under an enchantment or something. You know I help you, right?” Pike turned awkwardly, her hair spooling around his fingers and tangling as she spun to face him again. “Trust me, big guy.”

“I do, ‘course I do.” Grog’s shoulders shifted from side to side as he tried to think of how best to express what he was feeling, so he stopped thinking, and reached down to her with his free hand. 

With an exhausted grimace on her face, Pike swung her arms wide, and then shoved his fingers out of her hair. “ _What_? As if I don’t get pestered _enough_ by Scanlan, and now a good night drinking is going to be _wasted_ on figuring out who roofied you! Because it wasn’t fun! It wasn’t funny, and it wasn’t cute, and it wasn’t fun. It was scary and _weird_. And as much as I love you, Grog, we’re not in love!” Her voice, which had seemed more sober only moments before was becoming something nearer to slurred shouting, and there were tears in her eyes. “You want to-- _fine_! Get over here, let’s do it. If this is Scanlan, then I hope he’s hiding in the shadows finding some satisfaction! ‘Cause I’m gonna kiss Grog, _okay_? I’m gonna kiss him, and then I am gonna cry some more!”

“Kneel!” Pike demanded, her face exhausted, powerful, broken-hearted, and in her own tiny rage. 

On the hard cobblestone, Grog lowered himself down. Looking her all over in wonder and absolute infatuation. She was… perfection.

Grabbing his hand, which required both of her own, she slammed it against her waist. Once it was settled there, she motioned for him to lean in. He could smell filth and sweat and alcohol pouring off of her, and see tears pouring down her face. 

But here she was. Offering at the very least… this.

“Okay, Grog.” 

Grog kissed her. It wasn’t ideal.

They… didn’t have a place to meet in the middle.

She focused on his upper lip, in the attempt not to block off her ability to breath through her nose. Her mouth tasted of the soup she’d eaten, and the drinks she’d imbibed. Even as he picked her up off her feet, supporting her by the hand on the small of her back, his heart sank. Everything that was driving him to this moment, every desire he had, was weakened as he felt her sniffle as she tried harder to make the kiss make sense.

But she was too small. Or he was too big. 

Gasping in the pure fire-y pull that kept demanding he try, he found himself moving to her cheek, and her forehead, then her neck. She did the same, kissing down his skin, even as he felt tears linger behind. 

There was plenty of passion on his part. But, there was no spark. Regardless of his inflamed instincts, his mind forced through confusion and embarrassment. He wasn’t the brightest of the group, but he knew this wasn’t… she had been right. Something was _wrong_. 

He’d made her cry.

She was panting against his shoulder, and he could feel her shaking, and then he heard a sob. 

“Sorry, Pike. I’m sorry.” He began to put her down, but her arms swung around him, and held tight to his neck.

“‘S okay, Grog.” She was muttering under her breath, and he saw a flash of light weave around them, there was a twinge of something as what she had cast slipped through his skin and through him, seeking to root out whatever it was that made him make her cry.

“How’s it working?” With a few sniffling breaths, she relaxed against him, practically seated on his arm now, as he held her, feet dangling above the cobblestone.

“‘S the same.” Being this close to her, and having her being willing, it actually was making… peace within him. Which was a more comfortable sensation for him, he always felt calmer around Pike. She’d always been the one to keep him together. Literally, some of the time.

“I’m not sure it worked. I’m kind of trashed.” Patting his back with her hands in an awkward little rhythm, he felt her head shift against his shoulder. “I’m just tired of it, you know? Trying to tell Scanlan ‘ _no_ ’ without screaming at him and causing trouble in the group. I’m not a cheap bauble to be won. But he’s persistent. I just feel… tired of _listening_ to it. When I fall in love, it’s going to be because _I_ want it. It’ll be with who I want. There won’t need to be _begging_ and _bothering_. Tired of being the grown up.”

Grog’s frustrated desires were still burning in him, but he had made things happen quickly. He was a quick sort of action-driven man. Not a planner. She wanted someone who could plan how to treat her like the beautiful goddess she was. Someone better than himself. Better than Scanlan.

Someone less likely to make her feel cornered, or make her feel sad. Like she did now.

“Sorry, Pike.” He leaned his head towards hers, and their foreheads bumped, and there was a pit of guilt in his stomach. 

“Me too, buddy… we should go see if we can figure out what’s going on.” Pike gave him a hard slap on the back, and then a kiss on his cheek as he pulled her away. “Besides, it’s been a while, and I left a flagon on the table.”

A window shattered from the wall of the tavern, a stool clattered across the street and hit the curb on the other side. 

There were some shouts from within, and a number of patrons came running out of the door. 

Grog set her on her feet, and watched as Vax emerged from the shadows near the doorway to go against the flow outwards and slip back into the tavern. Again, maybe it was something weird. But… maybe not? Grog just wasn’t up to puzzling it out.

Pike spun around, and she sighed heavily. “Sounds like _someone_ started a fight.”

“Yeah.” Grog growled with delight, and that heat inside his guts curled up like a paper thrown on a fire, flashed a final time as he glanced down at the gnome caught in the torchlight from the busted out window to their right, and the moonlight from above, then the desire dimmed, became ash, and flew away. 

“We better get in there... You want to punch some people, I’ll heal them, and you can punch them some more?” Pike nodded him towards the door, even as townsfolk fled. 

“I like that.” Grog reached down, and returned the sharp clap on her back, she stumbled, rubbed her hand over her face, smearing the dirt all over it, but disguising the tear-trails.

“Sounds good.” With a final smile, she stepped between a few legs, and managed the siddle into the tavern. She was small enough to get to where she needed to. 

People moved aside for Grog as he pushed into the Tavern with a roar. He was big enough to get to where he was needed, and that was not with Pike. He was happy to be backing her up, and pummeling the crap out of whoever he could as he did.


End file.
